


Like Ships In The Night

by germanjj



Series: Hide From The Moon [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Canon Character Deaths Mentioned, Coda, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 14:56:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21138551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/germanjj/pseuds/germanjj
Summary: set during the very end of 3.24 - "The Devine Move"The other way around.





	Like Ships In The Night

~ +++++++++ ~

Stiles' eyes follow the dark path up the stairs, bare concrete walls to one side, unchanged for decades ever since they were put into place. Yet to Stiles they feel brand new. He lets his hands glide over the surface, imperfections and cuts and scratches beneath his fingertips grounding him as he takes step by step. Stiles wonders if those had been here before, before he was even born maybe.

Maybe it’s Stiles who is brand new, not a single part of him the same as past Stiles, as before Stiles. Before friends dying. Before the Nogitsune. Before Werewolves and Banshees and all of that. Those old parts of him are gone, shed like dead skin. 

Stiles’ gaze settles onto his shaking hand as he’s reaching the heavy, solid door. A barrier. To keep something out or to keep something in, Stiles asks himself. Or to keep someone apart. 

He has his housekeys in his other hand now, playing with it, just to keep his fingers busy or maybe his mind busy listening to the sound of them. 

He can’t knock. 

He doesn’t understand why, what’s stopping him, when it’s just one gesture, one movement. But then again he doesn’t know what he even came here to do, other than escaping his own bedroom and seeking refuge somewhere else, and suddenly he found himself parking across the street from Derek’s loft and now he’s here, in front of his door, frozen to the spot. 

Minutes pass. 

He presses his forehead against the cold metal, sure that Derek is right on the other side and that he can hear him, smell him even. He knows he’s home, Stiles’ had seen the light from where he parked the Jeep. 

Stiles senses the perpetual anger he always feels around Derek rising to the surface again. This time for not opening the door when he knows it’s Stiles on the other side. For making him do the last step and ask to be opened to.

He knocks, finally, breathing in and straightening his back. The door opens immediately, confirming Stiles’ suspicions. 

But every snarky comment dies in Stiles’ throat when their eyes meet. There’s no surprise in Derek’s face, but wariness. 

‘What am I doing here?’ Stiles wants to ask him, as if Derek would know the answer better than he does, would somehow be able to sense his own intentions. 

Derek steps aside and motions Stiles to come in. 

It’s surprisingly dark in the loft. The light Stiles had seen is close to the window, illuminating the glass but not much else further back. Stiles finds himself in the middle of the room, eyes on everything but the man behind him, and he can sense him waiting for something. An explanation for why he’s here or better even for what they’ve been doing these last few months.

But Stiles has no answer. What he has is a room full of memories, of people they’ve lost and monsters that made it out of his nightmares into the real world. He has nothing and he feels lost again, and alone, thoughts dancing through his head. Not running precisely, they’re more like a mockery, dancing and jumping, first slow and then faster, until they’ve riled one another up enough to crash in an ugly pile and panic would take over. 

Stiles can feel his pulse speeding up, his blood rushing through his veins, and he wonders if Derek can hear that, because he closes the door and says “Stiles?” in a tone that is more concern than curiosity. 

Stiles turns around to face him and the thoughts stop. 

He remembers Scott talking about anchors. About what they are and how they work and how important they are. Stiles is sure he is looking at his own. 

“Stiles,” Derek repeats, walking up to him.

Stiles doesn’t respond, not in words anyway. He feels himself spur into action, watches himself close the distance between them, watches how his hands fly up to Derek’s face to pull him close, and then, like a rubber band snapping back, he’s back inside his own body, kissing Derek. 

Derek must have known Stiles would do this. He’s a werewolf, he must have sensed what Stiles body wanted to do even before he set a single foot through the door. He’s kissing Stiles back as if that is exactly what they were meant to do all along, as if he had only been waiting for Stiles to catch on. 

Stubble is burning against Stiles’ cheek, hands pulling him against broad shoulders, his own hand touching bare skin under Derek’s shirt, and he feels alive. Suddenly and fully alive, just for a second, and then the world tilts once again and all of his exhaustion catches up with him, rushes back into his body like an avalanche that’s been looming on the horizon, and everything comes crashing down all at once 

His sobbing breaks the kiss and Stiles finds himself pulled tighter into Derek’s arms, head against the crook of his neck, as if Derek had been anticipating that, too. 

Stiles breaks. He’s shaking under Derek’s steady grip, his throat burning from the pain. He’s crying for Allison, even for Aiden, for Scott and Isaak, for his dad and Lydia and for Derek. And for himself too. He has no recollection how long they’re standing like this, but he’s sure that Derek’s the only reason he’s still upright. 

When it’s over, when Stiles feels like he can breathe again without his chest constricting into another painful sob, he tries to untangle himself from Derek and find some balance on his own. 

Derek doesn’t let him get very far. He’s tilting his head up, waiting until Stiles is ready to meet his eyes. “What do you want, Stiles?” he asks, kindness in his voice Stiles had rarely heard before. 

“Sleep,” he replies truthfully, throat raw. “I just want to be able to sleep again.”

A small smile plays around Derek’s lips. “Then we sleep.”

He says it with so much conviction that Stiles wants to believe that it’s all it takes. As if saying it with enough confidence will trick Stiles’ body and his mind to believe it, and just let him finally rest. 

But when Derek pulls Stiles towards his bed and they make a quick job of getting down to their underwear, and Stiles crawls into the soft, cool sheets, he can already feel a bone crushing fatigue spread through his body. 

There’s no hesitation anymore, no shame between them. Derek slips in right next to him and pulls him close without hesitation, their limps entangled, enough so that Stiles can feel the soft, steady beating of Derek’s heart and he listens to this breathing, letting that sound lull him to sleep.

Fin 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you everyone for indulging, leaving kudos and comments! That means the world!
> 
> This is the last installement of this series.


End file.
